


Much Ado About Nothing

by KittyKenway



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: BBC Robin Hood Secret Santa 2017, Best Friends, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Costumes, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Short & Sweet, Surprise Party, implied robin/marian, not very festive, rhsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyKenway/pseuds/KittyKenway
Summary: Set very shortly after Turk Flu (1 x 05), the gang wakes up one day to find out just how little they appreciate what Much does for them - until he stops doing stuff for them.





	Much Ado About Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> My 2017 RH Secret Santa entry for lafseanchai! Merry Christmas and hope you have a good day!

Following the aftermath of the destruction of Treeton mine and the archery competition, when Robin had sought to make reparation for the Treeton village and win a touch more glory for himself, the gang had laid low for a few weeks in the forest. Mostly because the Sheriff was still raging over the loss of his key iron mine and mostly because the gang was busy helping Djaq’s fellow compatriots secure a safe way back to their homeland.

It had not been easy, but a ship from Bristol was found, a shipmaster paid off, and Djaq’s friends would begin their long voyage home. Djaq, meanwhile, had chosen to remain with the gang and the addition of a woman to their numbers had caused some unrest among the gang.

“That’s enough for me,” Allan said, one evening beside the campfire, wiping his mouth and setting his drinking horn aside. He straightened up, stretched, and turned to the tree, fiddling with the front of his trousers as he did so.

“Allan!”

“What?” He turned, bleary-eyed, and looked over his shoulder at Will, who was sat beside Djaq and the fire, and in the process of fletching some arrows. 

“Do that somewhere else…” Even ignoring his proximity to the fire, Will’s cheeks were noticeably dark. He nodded his head towards Djaq, who seemed nonplussed by the entire scene and who was instead watching the flames.

Allan pulled a face, but did as he was told, wobbling a little as he set off into the forest to finish off his business elsewhere.

With all the shift in group dynamics and the difficulties of helping a band of Saracens return home, some key dates went forgotten by some.

Robin only knew that he had made a mistake when he woke one morning to find his cup of water empty, his clothes unfolded and left crumpled beneath his hammock and his morning eggs left in the chicken coop. 

Allan had not noticed anything wrong nor had John, but Will had noticed that the debris from his fletching was littered still around the fireplace; it appeared that no one had swept up that morning. It was Djaq who pointed out to them the figure still in Much’s bed, covers wrapped up still around his shoulders. It appeared that the camp’s cook and general dogsbody was on strike.

“You alright there, Much?” Allan was first to broach the issue.

No reply came from beneath the covers.

“You feeling alright?” Robin asked, arms folded. His clothes felt uncomfortably crinkled that morning. 

Again no reply came, but the very stiff set of Much’s shoulders spoke a great deal: he was mad and mad at all of them. He was just being unusually quiet about it.

“What do you reckons wrong with him?” Allan whispered, taking his usual spot beside the fire. He was somewhat confused to find that the fire had not been lit nor had any water been put to boil. He just stared at the pit and wished it would light up by itself.

Robin shrugged and John shook his head. Djaq was already starting up a fire with her glass instrument and Will set about cleaning up his mess from the night before. 

“He’s not ill, is he?” Will asked in a low voice, as breakfast became dinnertime and Much still had not emerged from his bed.

Robin shrugged again, frowning softly. He knew something was up, but he could not just place his finger on it and any response in Much’s direction had been met with silence but… wait a minute… what was the day again…?

If the archery competition had been on Midsummer’s Day and then they had been in Bristol the week after and then they got back on the Monday last and then that made it…

Robin slapped himself hard on the forehead, causing the rest of the gang to stop whatever it was they were doing and to turn and stare at him. How could he have been so stupid?! He had forgotten Much’s birthday!

Much, who had remembered Robin’s birthday every year, even those blasted years out in the desert. He had never seen Robin miss a birthday, no matter how little his master felt the want to celebrate it. Even when food was scarce and drink gone, Much would find a way to pull some barrel of ale and a leg of lamb out of thin air almost. 

And yet Robin had ignored Much’s birthday, their first birthday together back home in England.

“Gang,” Robin sighed, turning to the others, “we’ve got some work to do.”

*********************

Marian was sat before her father’s house, fixing the sleeve of her Night Watchman’s outfit and enjoying the sweet summer sunshine. Her enjoyment of the sun was hindered then by a shadow looming over her.

“Some embroidery?” Robin said, with a grin, folding his arms and leaning against a pole. 

“You can say that,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice cool, yet his sudden appearance had surprised her, jolted her stomach and left her flustered. It did not help that she had been thinking of him just a moment before and then suddenly he was there, in front of him as if her thoughts had drawn him to her. She could only hope he’d attribute her reddening cheeks to the warm day and not to his presence…

“Listen, I need your help…”

“What is it now?” Secretly, she was glad he had come to her for help, though she had yet to know what he was asking for. She sighed and set her tunic aside, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she peered up at him. 

He explained it all to her, the fact that he had woken up without breakfast, that Much was still sulking in bed, and that they - right, he - had forgotten Much’s birthday.

Marian listened, nodded, and rolled her eyes.

“Of course you forgot,” she said. “You’ve no doubt been going on about the archery contest and the mine.” Robin went to open his mouth to rebuke that, but he stopped - she was, unfortunately, correct. “What do you need help with?”

Robin, in shamed silence, handed her a scrap of parchment on which a hastily scribbled list had been written. 

“You expect me to get all of this to you in the woods for when? Tonight?” Marian shook her head, aghast. She liked Much, she really did, and she too felt some shame in also having forgotten his birthday, but there was only so much she could do without attracting the attention and ire of the Sheriff. “A whole roast pig? Banners? A cake? How would I carry all that, let alone not get the Sheriff onto me?” 

“I thought you’d have the things here.”

“Cold roast pork, yes, and the apples.” She stood up and brushed herself down, before turning back to the list. “But the cake? The candles? The spiced sausage and the honey mead? I’d have to go to Nottingham for that.” She handed him back the list. “Why can’t you get it? He’s your best friend.”

“I would, but the Sheriff’s put twice the number of guards on since the contest.”

“And how am I to explain leaving Nottingham with all these things? That I’m throwing a party that I forgot to invite the Sheriff or Guy to,” Marian sighed, before gesturing Robin to follow her. She led him to the back of Knighton Hall to the storehouse. “Help yourself,” she said, folding her arms, “but I can’t help you more than that. And wish Much a happy birthday from me,” she added, “I’m sorry I too forgot.”

She went to turn away, but stopped herself, sighing:  
“If you want candles, they’re in the house.” She sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, cursing her own willingness to help and Robin’s foolish grin. “Fine. I’ll get them. Wait here.”

******************

Robin returned to the others, hiding out at the edge of the forest, his arms laden with food and candles. 

“Marian gave what she could, but she won’t be able to get the rest of the stuff from Nottingham,” he said, handing the goods over to John. “Looks like we’ll have to find a way to get into Nottingham without being seen.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Will spoke up, quickly. His cheeks flushed as everyone had turned to look at him. “Trust me, this might work.”

*****************  
“No.”

“Allan?!”

“No way am I wearing that,” Allan said, shaking his head. “The only good thing about it is the Sheriff’d laugh himself to death before he could hang us!”

Robin shook his head wearily. “You got a better idea?”

“Yeah, I do,” Allan continued. “Let’s take Much to the tavern, sit him down, get him a big birthday tankard, and just admit we forgot.”

“Much would like that?”

“I dunno. I know I would.”

Robin sighed, before shoving the costume into Allan’s hands. “Wear this.”

Allan grumbled. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Was my birthday last week and we didn’t do anything.”

Robin turned back, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Last week? But we threw that party for you in May…”

“I bought that tankard for you in April…” Will said. 

John only growled and turned to glare down a sheepish-looking Allan. He had been conned into buying Allan a ‘birthday’ drink before. 

Allan shrugged. “Could as well have been? Ma never remembered when I was born.” 

“Get into costume,” Robin said, and clearly for the last time. “Come on. The market’s not going to be open all day.”

**********************

The guard at the toll booth watched, bored, as the hooded peasant, his son, and their oddly-shaped donkey stumbled up to his booth.

“Names?” he barked, pretending to make a note of them. 

“John Darnton,” said the peasant. The guard had to look up to see his face.

“Pull your ‘ood down, man!” the guard snapped. “The Sheriff won’t have no ‘oods in Nottingham now.”

John reluctantly pulled his hood down, but, fortunately, while the guard did suspect he had seen that man before, after seven hours of freezing his behind off at his stand, he couldn't care less. 

“Who’s ‘im?” 

“My son, William,” John said, slapping Will on the shoulder.

“And... that?” The guard gestured with his thumb to the donkey, who was staring blankly off into the distance.

“My mule,” John replied, impatiently. “You finished or you want our life stories too?”

“I’m finished.” The guard was affronted. He jabbed his thumb towards the town. “Be out by sundown.”

Once free of the sight of the booth, John and Will drew the donkey down a side alley before signalling that the coast was clear. The donkey’s front hooves went up, grasped the head and pulled it loose, revealing a rather flushed Robin.

“Good idea, Will,” he said, grinning, before wiping his face on the sleeve. “Alright back there, Allan?”

The back of the donkey fell away and a gasping Allan came into view, cheeks flushed red.

“Why’d I have to be the back end?” he grumbled, loudly, once he caught his breath. 

****************  
While the others had gone to buy up the rest of Robin’s list at Nottingham, Djaq had volunteered to remain behind and to watch Much. Watching Much was proving to be an easy job. He had not moved in a few hours, remaining a still lump in his bed, which gave Djaq some time to look about the camp and aquaint herself with her new home.

But when the sun reached its highest in the sky and Much still had not made a sound or moved, Djaq knew something was off.

“Wakey, wakey, little man,” she called out, not wanting to scare him. “Time to get up.” Still no answer. She leaned down and poked him in the shoulder. Nothing. She grabbed his blanket and tugged it back. There was no one there.

Much had gone.

*****************

“Not bad work, gang,” Robin said, as they made their way back to camp laden down with goods.

“S’alright for you lot,” Allan grumbled, the lower end of the donkey under his arm. “No one made you look like an ass.”

Will laughed along with the others, careful not to drop the several-tiered cake that he carried. He did almost drop the cake when he saw Djaq running towards them, looking flustered.

“Much is gone!” she exclaimed. 

“What? How?” Robin said.

“Where?” John asked.

“I don't know,” Djaq shrugged. “I turned my back and I didn't see him leave and then I went to wake him and it was just his pillow under his blanket.” She groaned and rubbed her face. “I looked around but I couldn't find his tracks.”

Robin was aghast. 

“Where did he go? He couldn't have gone far…” He shook his head and groaned. “He thought we forgot his birthday!”

“So?” Allan said.

“He always remembers things for us. Our washing, our food, the camp.” Robin groaned again. “The one day. The one day we had to remember and we blew it! What if we don't see him again.”

“We will,” Djaq spoke up.

“How can you be so sure?” 

Djaq only jabbed her finger towards the forest, beyond Robin’s shoulder. Robin turned around, hardly daring to believe it, but Djaq was right! Hurrying over to them was a flustered-looking Much.

“I can't believe I missed you,” he gasped, oblivious to his friends’ open-mouthed shock at his arrival. 

“Much,” Robin gasped, dropping his donkey’s head in his rush to embrace his friend, “what happened? Where have you been?”

“You’re not mad at us for forgetting your birthday?” Allan said, still sullenly holding the bottom half. 

“Mad? My birthday?” It was Much’s turn to smack his forehead. “Was that yesterday? I forgot all about it.”

That was a relief, but the others still exchanged looks. If he was not mad with them, then…

“Where were you?”

It came out then, the whole sorry affair. Much, still feeling guilty for forsaking his God in a bid for Djaq to do it, had begun a pilgrimage. He had waited for a quiet day in camp, when he was fairly sure nothing would be going on, and had set off at the very crack of dawn. Mortified to admit what he was doing, he had not told anyone, but had instead made his bed up to look as if he was sleeping still. He had purposely not followed his morning routine so as not to wake anyone. He also did not realise how quickly he would be missed! He had only intended to walk to Kirklee Abbey to pay an offering and had hoped to have been back by noon. Unfortunately, he had got lost, wandering from the track and had never reached the abbey.

“It was getting late so I thought I’d head back,” he said, as he walked back to the camp with the others. “Were you really that worried?”

“No,” Allan said, hastily.

“Yes,” Robin said, likewise hastily. He clasped his best friend’s shoulder and drew the smaller man to him. “You worried us sick.”

“Fine,” Allan admitted. “The quiet was getting to me.” His words were harsh, but his tone was jokey and he too clapped Much on the back.

“What’s with the cake?” Having been reunited with his friends, Much’s mind was turning once more to food - and to the delicious selection his friends were carrying. 

“Your birthday feast,” John said. “We thought we’d make up for forgetting.”

Much’s cheeks darkened, his lip trembled. 

“You… you shouldn’t have…” he said, sniffing.

“Don’t cry about it,” Allan groaned, but suddenly Much’s arms were around his shoulders and he found himself fending off a hug. 

“I get the cake,” Much said, finally breaking off, having hugged each of the group in term with varying levels of difficulty (and almost losing the cake in the process…). “But what’s with the donkey costume.”

***************************

They filled him in by the time they reached camp, but by the time they reached camp the sky over the forest was already darkening. 

It was therefore surprising to find the camp lit up, with a whole host of candles that Robin had managed to miss earlier.

“You’d think I would miss this,” Marian said. “I snuck away as soon as I could.” She stepped forward and pulled Much into a hug. “Happy birthday.” She handed him a small wrapped present and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Much’s cheeks flushed again. He happily ripped the wrapping away to find just what he wanted: a new hat.

“Thank you, my lady,” he stammered.

“My pleasure,” she replied, but her eyes were on Robin and he too was struggling to look away. 

Casks of drinks were opened, more candles lit, and the group and Marian sat back around Djaq’s re-lit fire, munching away at their salvaged feast. Much, for once, sat at the very head of the group. Every time he went to go and do something, to tidy up this or to clear away that, he would be pushed back down into his chair and his cup refilled or more food piled onto his plate. It had been the best birthday he had ever had.

“To Much!” Robin led the toasts, and everyone joined in, raising tankards of cider or apple juice to their already rather tipsy friend. 

“To Much!”

Truly, it was the best birthday he had ever had.


End file.
